The Seekers: "Georgy Girl"

February 4, 1967 (2 weeks)

There used to be this thing called 'guilty pleasures'. The idea, formed in large part by overly sensitive rockist types, was that pop groups like The Monkees, ABBA and The Bee Gees might be off limits in public to your average rock 'n' roll fan but perhaps it's okay to like them in secret. Growing up in the early nineties during the rise of grunge bands like Nirvana, it seemed like anything remotely manufactured and/or shiny would have to be consigned to the guilty pleasure ghetto. It was the sort of thing that was easy to believe in for a while even if it was in reality a house of cards. (The fantastic 1992 pop/R&B hit "I Like Your Smile" by Shanice was the song that made me start to reconsider it)

Early 2000's poptimism did away with guilty pleasures being commonplace (whenever they come up on social media, you can count on someone to chime in with a comment like "Who cares? You like what you like") but I sort of miss them nowadays. I sometimes long for when I was such a snobby little shit about the music I was into — and, indeed, the stuff I hated. I also find that this blanket acceptance of pop has lowered standards. (Jesus, I feel like the lamest reactionary conservative right now) We no longer expect to be wowed by groups just so long as we like their sound.

Of course, there's much more to pop than the sound. Like it or not, image matters. Bands who look cool can get away with a lot. Looking cool was never an issue for The Seekers, however. The three guys — bassist Athol Guy, lead guitarist Keith Potger, rhythm guitarist Bruce Woodley — looked like deacons at the local Anglican church while singer Judith Durham had the look of the kindly librarian who you knew not to get on the wrong side of. They didn't need such an on-the-nose name as 'The Seekers' for you to suspect that they were really into the Bible.

The nice thing about growing up is I'm able to see through such nonsense. The Seekers were made up of individuals. Some of them probably drank and enjoyed less than devotional music at least some of the time and they may have been into cricket and rugby and they probably all enjoyed sex. Hell, there's even a reasonable chance that at least one of them wasn't even much of a believer — you'd just never know it listening to songs of theirs like "I'll Never Find Another You", "The Carnival Is Over" and "Georgy Girl".

Some of their earlier hits leave a lot to be desired — mostly because they're so incredibly boring — but "Georgy Girl" is too catchy and too lovable to be similarly dismissed. The whistling is the first indication they had finally released something of value. While I was convinced it had been done on an organ set to a high register and then experimented on by an intrepid studio engineer, it was the doing of a professional. (Yes, there are professional whistlers which proves there really is an occupation for everyone) But that's just the beginning. As a longtime sucker for breezy pop melodies I was bound to mark out for this jewel. Durham could at times overdo her vocals as anyone trained in an ultra-white church choir might but she nails it in this instance. Plus, her little vocal asides ("...inside you", "...a little bit") button up every line beautifully.

It's those little bits that provide an interesting look at The Seekers' perspective. The main character in "Georgy Girl" is conservative, refined and unable or unwilling to put a foot wrong. Yet, there's something inside her that longs to be expressive and free. When Durham sings the line "so shed those dowdy feathers and fly...a little bit" it reveals their similar desire for liberation while also exposing their hesitation to do so. Don't fly off away from your roots and toward a whole new life, just depart for a pleasure flight now and then but make sure you always return home. More than a little out of place for the increasingly radical late sixties but kudos to The Seekers for trying to keep up.

The only thing holding it back (or am I holding myself back?) is that it's not the type of thing I would normally seek out. (See what I did there?) Which begs the question: why not? It's a lot of fun and whenever it comes on I'm singing along almost instantly. Yet, the music snob of old is still in there, a stubborn fourteen-year-old who is convinced the stuff he's info has infinite value and everything else might as well be chucked in a landfill. The poptimist in me can't get enough of songs like "Georgy Girl" while my rockist side wishes to keep such information secret for a while longer. Don't tell anyone, okay?

Score: 8